Idiot
by Missie DuCaine
Summary: BobbySt. John. It's always easier to date someone if you can touch them. That's what St. John thinks, anyway.


**Written for drabblebabies.**

**X-Men copyright Marvel. I don't own. Don't sue.**

"What do you see in her, anyway?"

Bobby fairly jumped, spinning to look at the door to his room, relaxing when he saw that it was only his roommate, standing just inside the door frame, flicking his zippo. "Johnny. God. Don't sneak up on me like that."

St. John sneered, and kicked the door shut. "I mean it. What do you _see_ in her? It's not like you can even _kiss_ her, much less anything else."

"That's not why I'm dating her, Johnny," Bobby sighed, straightening and sitting on his bed. Flipping the book he'd found under his bed over and over in his hands, he shrugged. "I enjoy spending time with her."

"You enjoy spending time with me," St. John pointed out, moving to sit on his own bed, their knees almost brushing in the narrow space between their beds.

Bobby laughed, shaking his head. "Johnny, it's not the same."

"Why not?" St. John asked, flicking the zippo again. "Because I'm not a chick?"

"No, because..." Bobby shook his head, frowning. "Wait, are you trying to figure out what I see in Rogue or are you trying to convince me of why I should be dating you instead?"

St. John shrugged, leaning back on his hands. "Well, what do you think?"

"I think you're confusing the hell out of me," Bobby answered, brows furrowed. "Look, I just like her, okay? That's all there is to it."

"Can't kiss her," St. John reminded him, looking away casually.

"No..." Bobby admitted. "But that's not _all_ there is to it..."

"Sure it isn't?" St. John turned to look back at him, one eyebrow arched. "Relationships seem kind of doomed when the people in it can't _touch_."

"Look, Johnny," Bobby stood. "This stopped being funny about five minutes ago. I'm gonna go read in the library."

"Wait," St. John stood, hand on Bobby's forearm, hesitating a little.

"What?" Bobby shrugged. "You wanted something?"

St. John hesitated. "Promise you won't kill me?"

Bobby snorted. "Kill you? Yeah, right. Cause Professor Xavier would _really_ look kindly on that."

St. John sighed, shaking his head. "I mean... I want to prove something to you. Promise you won't kill me?"

The iceman rolled his eyes. "I won't kill you."

"Good," St. John said, and leaned forward, kissing Bobby solidly.

Bobby gasped, shocked, and grabbed at St. John's arms. He was about to shove his friend away when St. John's tongue found its way into his mouth, stroking along his tongue, and Bobby involuntarily moaned. He had kissed a few people in his days, but due to the whole 'my girlfriend's skin is toxic and her touch could potentially kill me' thing, he hadn't kissed anyone in quite awhile, and well... this was actually kind of... _nice_.

St. John's mouth was strangely hotter than anyone else's he'd ever kissed, and really, the flamethrower had a very talented tongue. Bobby's grip on his arms had long changed from pushing him away to pulling him closer, and with only a couple steps, he managed to push St. John back onto his bed, falling on top of him.

"Ow," St. John laughed when they made contact, mouths separating. "Am I to assume that this means physical contact _is_ important after all?"

Bobby straightened, feeling suddenly very guilty at this reminder of his girlfriend. "I shouldn't be doing this..." he muttered, moving to stand back up.

St. John was the one to grab his arms this time. "Wait," he insisted. "Don't go. Please, Bobby, listen to me. What can she give you that I can't? I can give you more than she can. You can _touch_ me. See?" He placed Bobby's open palm on his collarbone, exposed by the half open collar on his button up shirt. "You can't do this with her, Bobby."

Bobby swallowed, and his response sounded slightly strangled "That's true."

St. John leaned up again, bringing their lips back together, and though Bobby hesitated for a few moments, just feeling the other's lips move over his, when St. John's fingers curled in his hair, he let go, moaning as he kissed back.

Things were getting, well, they were getting _good_, Bobby decided. St. John arched and moaned under him, writhing in a way that seemed to send all his blood rushing from his head and moving downward at a dramatic rate, until he felt light headed and almost dizzy, but not in a 'your sucking my soul through my face' way he would have had with Marie, but a sweet 'you make me lose my head' way. He liked it. He liked it a lot, actually, and was delighting in the way his own actions drew sharp gasps from the lips under his, like when he ran his hand down St. John's side and down to his hips, where he squeezed, lightly.

One of St. John's hands drifted from Bobby's hair to his shoulder, then down still, and Bobby groaned when those thin fingers grabbed at his ass, jerking convulsively. They both hissed when their groins made contact, and Bobby slid his free hand down between the two of them, cupping St. John through his jeans.

The smaller boy hissed, eyes shut, arching off the bed and into Bobby's grip. "Oh, _god_, Bobby..."

Grinning against the other's mouth, Bobby reached up a little, flicked the button open on those jeans, then slid down the zipper and slipped his hand inside.

St. John arched again, making a low, keening noise in the back of his throat, and Bobby smiled with pure pleased delight, squeezing a little. "Like that?"

"Oh god, _yes yes yes_, _Bobby_..." St. John moaned. "So _close_..."

And with the world's official worst timing _ever_, the door swung open, and a sweet southern accent called, "Bobby? Where are you, sugah, I was..." and then there was a gasp, horrified.

Bobby groaned, and nearly would have leapt up, except his hand _was_ down St. John's pants, and the other boy had grabbed onto his arm with a death grip the second the door had opened. "Rogue... look..."

"I thought you wanted... I thought we were..." Rogue hesitated, and Bobby winced. She sounded close to tears.

"You think he wanted to compete with _Logan_ for you?" St. John hissed, face dark when Bobby glanced up at him. "When he can't even _touch_ you? I've got news for you. It doesn't work like that." He took a couple deep breaths. "I was trying so hard, and it was going so well. Then _you_ showed up, and screwed everything up. Bobby's _mine_. Got it?"

The door slammed, and Bobby winced. He could barely hear a crying Rogue running away. "Great. Now I have to apologize to her."

"Don't you _dare_!" St. John snapped, squeezing Bobby's arm hard enough for him to flinch. "Don't you _dare_ act ashamed of this!"

"I'm not..." Bobby groaned, and slumped on top of St. John, tugging on his hand gently until the other released his death grip, and he could pull it out of his pants. "I'm not ashamed of you. I just... technically she _is_ my girlfriend. So technically I just cheated on her. Which you know, is something I should apologize for."

"Fine," St. John hissed, shoving at him. "Get off me. Get off!"

"No." Bobby said stubbornly, shaking his head.

"You bastard, _get off me_!" St. John yelled, struggling wildly now.

"Johnny," Bobby growled, grabbed his friend's chin, and kissed him firmly. "I wasn't going to apologize for picking you over her. I was just going to apologize for not dumping her first."

St. John froze. "You mean..."

Bobby grinned like an idiot. "Yeah. Now. Where were we?"


End file.
